Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
by NikTaylor42
Summary: In an alternate universe where the Ravinian elite rule, mechanic Kurogane joins a mysterious blonde stranger to lead a rebellion to take back their world. Kuro/Fai, T rating due to strong language, violence, sexual content, and drug use, and may change.
1. Prologue

"Trust me."

Their eyes met. Up until now, the blonde had avoided his gaze, speaking only to the other members of the group. But at that moment, his words were for him, and for him alone.

_Trust me._

Kurogane stared into those eyes, those brilliant blue eyes. His mind raced.

_Trust me._

He loved the guy. He couldn't deny that, no matter how much he might like to. He loved him.

But did he dare trust him?

_Trust me._

"Why?" he finally asked. "Why should we trust you?"

"Because if you don't…" The other took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, before he continued.

"Everyone will die."

…~…

Author's Note:

This was originally in the crossover section, but then I thought, hey, I'm only taking the setting from 'Pendragon', not the characters, and it's an implied setting at that. So, although there will be concepts from 'Pendragon: Journal of an Adventure Through Time and Space', it's mostly your average Kuro/Fai nonsense. And by nonsense I mean crimefic romance, with strong language and violence and drug use and, who knows, maybe there'll be some sex. Actually, there will definitely be sex, the only question is how much of it I'll show, hence the tentative T rating.

Anyway, hope you enjoy. Review, please.


	2. The Price Of Betrayal

The wind howled outside the warehouse, as if frustrated that it could not enter. Icy air whistled through cracks between the boards nailed up over the windows, and the thermometer on the wall read 14 degrees. Yet Michael Ducir was sweating.

He had been scheduled for marginalization, shivering in the squalid holding cell, when the guards had come for him. He had been brought before a man, a Ravinian, who had offered him release: not just from marginalization, but from the Horizon Compounds as well. And all he had to do was one simple little thing:

Infiltrate the rebellion.

"I can't do that!" he whined. "What if I get caught?"

"If you don't accept my offer," the tall man in the red uniform replied coolly, "you can go back to the cell." He nodded at the identical-faced men behind him, then turned to go.

"Wait!" Michael jumped up, desperately grasping for the man's coat sleeve.

The robotic guards sprung into action. Michael let go, backed away until they lowered their guns. "Wait. I…look here," he cajoled, trying to win back the man's favor. "I'll do it, sure. As long as you're serious about membership…"

The man's face was smooth. Not a single muscle twitched, not even for a blink. "You do not seem to realize who you are speaking to. You are lucky I am offering you your life."

"Yes, yes of course." Michael was skilled in 'smoothing ruffled feathers', so to speak - he would never have survived 6 years as a drug supplier for the mafia if he wasn't. There were several ways to handle people that were angry with him, he had learned; it seemed that the best way to handle this particular situation was by agreement. "Whatever you say."

The man nodded, seeming satisfied. "Good." He turned away once more. "My men will give you the supplies you need. You will begin the moment you are released." He walked away.

So Michael had set out, armed with cameras and listening equipment, and, with a bit of poking about, had gotten himself accepted into one of the main sections of the rebel movement. And everything had been going perfectly well, until about ten minutes ago, when a man had caught him removing a listening device from under a door.

And now here he was, staring down the barrel of a gun, in a freezing warehouse in the middle of nowhere, head spinning. He fought panic. Don't worry. You can get out of this. He ran through his list of 'negotiation techniques', and decided pleading for his life would work best for this one. Not surprisingly, he found he didn't have to do much acting.

"Please…"

"Bastard." Raidon's voice cut through the tension-filled silence, as cold as the air itself. "Fucking _bastard_." The rebel leader's dark eyes gazed at him, hatred burning behind them. Terrible hatred…directed at him. Fear coursed through his body. He swallowed. "How long?" Raidon demanded. "How long have you been working for them?"

"I—two weeks. Maybe three."

"Which is it? Two or three?"

He wracked his brain desperately. "I-I don't remember exactly…" Tears suddenly blurred his vision. "Please don't hurt me…"

"Shut up!" Raidon barked. "I don't want to hear your whining. I want to know when you signed on to be a Ravinian rat, and I want to know _now_." He tightened his finger on the trigger. Michael whimpered.

"I don't remember. I really don't, I promise I don't!"

"Liar!"

"Lay off him, Rai," a man behind him interjected. He nodded towards Michael. "That methhead? It's a wonder he can even remember his own name." This statement prompted a snicker or two from the others in the room.

Raidon turned. "Lay off?" he said slowly, enunciating each syllable. "_Lay off?_" He walked towards the man who had spoken, keeping the gun trained on Michael. "Do you not understand what is happening here, Demadro? We have a rat. Possibly more than one. The Ravinians know about us. This is serious."

The one called Demadro nodded, and bowed his head. Raidon turned his attention back to Michael. "Who else is working for them?"

"Just me." Raidon didn't say anything. "It's true! It was just me! I don't know about anyone else! I swear I don't! I— "

"Why?" Raidon asked quietly.

Michael stopped short. "W-what?"

"Why did you do it? Why did you agree to spy for them?"

"I…" He hesitated, then figured he had nothing to lose. "They told me they would let me leave. Leave the Horizon. And join Ravinia."

There was a long pause. Then Raidon said,

"Bullshit."

"It's true!" Michael insisted. "That's what they said!"

"If that's really what they said and you believed it…" He laughed suddenly. "Then hell, kid: you're not just a traitor, you're fucking stupid."

Michael's face fell. Raidon continued. "Do you honestly believe that they would do that? Let you into Ravinia? Shit, do you even know what Ravinia _is_? 'We are the elite. We are the strong. We are the enlightened. We are Ravinia!'" He spat the words out like they were bitter, then leaned down until his face was inches from Michael's. "Get this through your head, kid. They are the chosen, the elite. The rest of us—you, me, everyone—are just dirt under their boots. Scum._ Rizers_." He grabbed the spy's arm and violently yanked him to his feet.

"And that's why we have come together!" he shouted, addressing the rest of the room. "To fight the Ravinians! To take back what belongs to us, the common people of the world! To restore Earth to what it was meant to be! To restore humanity!" There were a few cheers, and general murmurings of agreement. Then a hush fell over them as Raidon slid his eyes towards Michael.

"But then," he went on, "there are some in this world who do not share this vision. They are cowards, liars, traitors—idiots who ignore what Ravinia has done to the world, ignore the destruction, the deaths, the sorrow they have caused, and work with the Ravinians, clinging to the selfish, stupid hope that if they do they can save their own asses." His eyes bored into Michael's skull. "People who are willing to lie, kill, steal, and betray their fellow human beings—just to save themselves. Just to _maybe_ save themselves." Michael began to shake. Raidon glanced back at Demadro. "Dem, what do you think the punishment should be? For, say…high treason against humanity?"

"I'd say," Demadro answered, after pondering it a moment, "_death_ sounds about right."

"Death," Raidon agreed, his eyes never leaving Michael's. "Death." He paused, then pointed to the floor in front of him. "Kneel down."

Tears streamed down Michaels' face. Real tears. "God, no, please—"

"Kneel!"

He began to weep as he got down on his knees. Raidon faced the others once more. "Let this be an example to you!" he announced. "That this—"he aimed the gun—"is the price for betrayal."

The gun went off.

…~...

Kurogane watched as the two men carried out Michael's body. He shook his head. Spying to get into Ravinia…what a fucking idiot.

"Kurogane. Long time no see."

He turned to face Raidon, who was standing there with his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised, "What brings you to the rebel's cave?"

"Raidon," Kurogane responded in lieu of a greeting. He reached into his coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Heard you were low."

Raidon's eyes brightened. "Cigarettes!" He took the pack eagerly. Kurogane pulled the sack out off his shoulder and handed it to him. "There's more stuff in here. Just some things I thought you could use."

The rebel leader took the bag without so much as a glance, intent on the cigarettes. He lit one, and held it to his mouth, inhaling deeply. "Ah." He blew out. "Kurogane, you are a life saver, you know that?"

"Actually, I may be a murderer," Kurogane dryly replied. "Cigarettes are terrible for you. You'll end up dying young because of me."

"In this world? That's no loss." He exhaled, and sighed, closing his eyes. "At least I'll die happy. Ish." He opened one eye to peer at him. "So. Did you happen to catch the show?"

"I did."

"It's so unbelievable," Raidon said. "That the Ravinians are offering membership to people in exchange for spying. And not just for spying on anyone, but on the very people who are trying to help! And what's more, their people are actually buying it! As if the Ravinians would actually keep that promise!" He shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"No more unbelievable than trying to go against the Ravinians."

Raidon sighed. "Ah, Kurogane. Still so annoyingly complacent?"

"Still trying to attack armed fortresses with sharp sticks?" Kurogane shot back. "The Ravinians are powerful, insanely powerful. And yet you think you can somehow defeat them. Without decent weapons, I might add."

Raidon glanced at him. "Don't be so quick to scoff, Kuro-san. You have no idea what we have in mind."

"Does it matter? Whatever it is, it won't work. The Ravinians do what they want, and kill anyone who gets in their way. Period."

Raidon stared at him for a long, long time. Finally, he spoke. "If there's anyone out there that's unbelievable, Kurogane, it's people like you. People who accept what the world has become without question or complaint." He shook his head. "Hell, after what happened to your family, you'd think you'd be chomping at the bit to get back at the Ravinians, and yet you're not even the slightest bit interested." He cocked his head. "Why is that, Kurogane?"

_Shouts of terror. The sound of explosions. A voice screaming for help. Screaming his name._

_"Kurogane!"_

Raidon seemed to sense that he had overstepped a boundary, and quickly changed the subject. "Well, I suppose it's none of my business." He paused. "But, you know, you shouldn't be so quick to assume we're doomed to fail. This new plan of ours"—he suddenly grinned—"hell, it's a doozy." He stuck out his hand. "Good to see you again, man. Come back soon, okay? And bring lots of these." He held up the cigarette.

Kurogane shook his hand, and his head. "Why, do you have some sort of death wish?"

"Only for the Ravinians, my friend, only for the Ravinians." He gave Kurogane a salute, then strode off.

Kurogan watched him go, then turned to leave himself. Memories he'd rather stay forgotten rose in his mind unbidden; he tried to shut them out, but to no avail. The voices of the dead whispered to him, calling his name. He ignored them and stepped into the snow.

…~…

The cold hit him in the face, causing him to gasp. The temperature was undoubtedly below zero, and his old trench coat was decidedly inadequate for this sort of weather. The thought of staying at Raidon's for the night flickered across his mind but was rejected almost immediately. He pushed on, ignoring the chill just as he ignored everything else.

He had almost reached his apartment when he saw something lying in the snow a few feet away. For some reason that he would never understand, but that any time-space witch would call 'hitsuzen', he went over to see what it was. And sighed.

It was a man's body—a bloodied, brutally beaten body. One of his arms was bent at an unnatural angle, and blood from a nasty cut across the man's left eye matted his blonde hair to his forehead. Kurogane closed his eyes. So much death. So much violence and horror and pain. The Ravinians had ruined everything. And there was nothing anyone could do to stop them.

He started to rise to his feet, thinking seriously about going to go home and getting extremely drunk, when he noticed something. The man's chest had moved. Slightly, but it had. He watched closely. It happened again. The chest rose, then fell.

He was breathing.

He was _alive_.

Kurogane stared at the body, frozen with indecision. Just leave, he thought to himself. It's none of your concern. You can't save him. Don't involve yourself.

But a still, small voice inside him said,

_No._

_I'm not going to leave. I'm not going to give up. I'm going to try._

He put both arms under the man's body and lifted. He was surprisingly light. Kurogane got a firm grip on him and began to walk.

The Ravinians won't get this one.

...~...

Author's Note:

I do not own the concept of Ravinia or the Horizon Compounds. They belong to DJ MacHale and 'Pendragon'. I also do not own Kurogane or Fai, because they are fictional and, in any case, I'm poor and wouldn't be able to feed them.


	3. Welcome to Ravinia

_They called it the Bronx Massacre._

_It happened fifteen years ago. The UN was about to vote Ravinia as the spiritual leader of the world. But as a last-ditch attempt to change their minds, a rebel group that called themselves the Foundation held a rally in Yankee Stadium, hoping to sway the vote. Unfortunately, it was to no avail, and the UN voted in favor of Ravinia. Those at the rally watched the announcement in despair, thinking it couldn't get any worse…when it did._

_Three helicopters appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and Ravinian guards dropped down from them, as well as coming in from all the entrances. It happened so suddenly no one could stop it, no one could move, could only look on in horror. As they watched, a man walked onto the stage that had been set up on the field. A man they all knew and hated._

_Alexander Naymeer. The founder of Ravinia._

_People booed and screamed for him to leave, but he paid them no mind. "My friends!" he called, as if his audience was anything close to being on good terms with him. "The choice has been made. Our noble cause has been recognized. A glorious future awaits, but there is much work to be done." Some were trying to rush the stage, but the guards held them at bay. Naymeer continued, "Today is the beginning. It is a day that will forever be looked back upon as the turning point of mankind. It is the day when we grab hold of our own destiny and begin to create the life we so rightly deserve."_

_Naymeer's calm voice suddenly became harsh. "You are here today because you have made a choice. Rather than rising to your fullest potential, you have chosen to let other lead the way for you. You have chosen to tear down rather than build up. You criticize rather than strategize. Instead of working to improve your lot, you are satisfied with being carried on the backs of others._

_"For that, I pity you. If we are to see our way through to a greater world, we will no longer make excuses. No longer tolerate lethargy. Idleness. Sloth. You have chosen your own path. You could have reveled in the glory of Halla. Instead you will be swept away by the tide of purification."_

_As the end of his illustrious, well delivered, and totally bullshit speech, the leader of the elite thrust his hand into the air, the gray ring on his finger glowing._

_And it is at this point that every single documentation of this event ends, as if all the cameras suddenly cut out. There is no record, not one, of what happened after, only this: _

_Over 70,000 people went inside the stadium that day._

_Not one person came out._

_There was nothing inside the stadium to show what had transpired –no bodies, no blood –nothing but charred grass._

_There were people who attempted to seek out the truth of what happened that day, but eventually fear won out over curiosity. The world was afraid to stand against Ravinia, and their power grew until no one could. They went from being mere 'spiritual advisors' to replacing the UN as world leaders, and set in motion Naymeer's plan for Utopia._

_National borders became more and more 'lines on a map' than solid boundaries, until eventually they disappeared entirely, and the world became one great country, the U.R.R. (United Republic of Ravinia). Great cities and fantastic venues were constructed – but for the Ravinians alone. For all those who did not fit the ideal, all the common people, walls were built – walls that cut them off from the glory of Ravinia and enclosed them in settlements called Horizon Compounds. Those in the compounds were forced to work, doing all the menial tasks and labor that the Ravinians would not, and were watched over by robotic 'dados', the Ravinian's guards. The 'Horizons', as they were known as, became ghettos, filled with crime and disease, and the continual, mindless labor combined with poverty broke the wills of the people, ensuring that no one would dare rise up against Ravinia._

_The wills of most people, anyway._

_For there were some that refused to give up, coming together to defy the force that had destroyed their world. They plotted against the Ravinians, and kept alive the memories of those who had fought them before. They searched for answers, and were the few who still dared to seek the truth about what had happened on the day that it all started at Yankee Stadium –_

_While Kurogane tried his hardest to forget._

…~…

Kurogane's eyes flew open, taking in his surroundings. He was lying down, in his apartment. The clock on the nightstand read 7:00. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. A dream. Just a dream._ Idiot._

He sat up, and winced. Giving your bed to a stranger and sleeping on the floor, though hospitable, was not kind to your back. He stretched, and looked around. All was as it should be, everything in its place, though it wouldn't look it to the uninitiated. Kurogane's idea of organization was that every piece of paper, every pencil, every tool and shoe and article of clothing strewn about the room was in that specific place for a reason, and anyone who touched anything or –unthinkable though it may be –put anything away in a drawer, would irreparably upset the balance of his apartment, and throw the world as he knew it into chaos.

It wasn't a dirty place, though. A bit dusty in places, yes –it wasn't as if he was going to poke about with a feather duster –but mostly clean. There was just a bunch of stuff: on the floor, on and under the dresser (though not much in the dresser), on the nightstand, on the kitchen counters, completely covering the big green couch in the corner, and in the bathroom. There was usually stuff on the bed, too, but today, something else occupied it.

The blonde man lay there, unconscious, looking no better than he had when Kurogane picked him up last night. He had tried his best to dress his wounds when he had got in the apartment, but it wasn't something he did often, so he had no idea of knowing whether he had done any good or not. Right now it didn't seem like it: the man's breaking was shallow, and he seemed to be running a high fever along with his injuries, or perhaps due to them.

Kurogane was beginning to regret bringing him home. Without treatment, the chances were high that the man wouldn't make it, and there weren't any hospitals nearby. What was he going to do if he died? Even if he could afford a proper burial, his car was broken down, and he sure as hell wasn't lugging a dead body ten miles the coroners. Tossing him in the dumpster underneath his window would be easiest; admittedly insensitive, but better than rotting in the streets, they way some of the homeless would end up doing this winter.

He stood, grumbling to himself as he walked over to the window and opened the blinds. He squinted his eyes as the light streamed in. Rather bright for 7:00. Was it daylight savings or something? He yawned, and turned away from the window to face the bed. He stood over it for a moment, staring at the man.

"You better live, damn it," he muttered. "It's going to be a real pain in the ass if you don't."

…~…

He was in the kitchen making coffee when he heard the crash.

His first thought, after reaching for his gun (which he'd left in his coat in the other room)was that it was the blonde; he then discarded this notion as implausible. Perhaps a burglar? But what the hell did he have to steal? After deciding that someone breaking into his house this early in the morning was an equally ridiculous idea, he grabbed a frying pan and stormed into the bedroom to find out what was actually happening.

There was no one in the room, save for the blonde, who did not appear to have moved. The window was shattered, and amidst the broken glass on the floor was an old baseball.

"Stupid kids," he grumbled, kneeling down to pick up the glass.

The doorbell rang. He sighed irritably, and then went to answer it. He flung open the door.

"What?" he demanded.

The timid-looking boy standing there jumped. His eyes widened. "Um," he began nervously, "I –um –my ball went through your window."

"Yeah."

"Can I –have it back?"

"No," he said, and slammed the door in the kid's face. He leaned against it, and closed his eyes.

After a few moments the doorbell rang again. He opened the door.

"Please?" the boy asked.

He sighed.

"I promise it won't happen again," he added, as an afterthought.

"Stay here," Kurogane ordered. He went into the bedroom, picked up the ball, and returned to the door. "Here," he said, handing the ball to the kid. "Now scram."

The boy needed no urging, and took off down the street. He shut the door. "Stupid kids," he repeated. What were they doing playing ball so early in the morning anyway? He was throwing the glass from the window into the dumpster when the doorbell rang a third time.

"Look," he yelled as he headed for the door, "I gave you your damn ball back, now what the hell do you –"

He stopped short as he opened the door.

Standing outside was not the kid from before, but a young woman: pretty, and with light brown hair cut in an inverted bob. She was dressed warmly, her mittens clasped in front of her. Her big brown eyes gazed up at him.

Sakura.

"What ball?" she asked.

"Nothing. Nothing." He ran his hand through his hair, and then gestured inside. "Come in."

"Thank you." He closed the door behind her as she stepped inside. She tilted her head, studying him. "Are you all right?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine." He gave her an odd look. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"You weren't at work," she replied. "You didn't call in sick or anything, so Marty sent me down to find out what was wrong."

"What are you talking about?" he began, and then stopped. "Hold on," he told her, then went into the bedroom to check the clock.

It still read 7:00.

"Goddamn it," he growled.

"Oh my god."

He turned. She was standing in the doorway, staring at the man in the bed. "What –who is that?"

"I don't know," he replied with a shrug. "I found him on the street last night. Looked like he could use some help."

"My god, he looks terrible." She walked over to him, laying a hand on his forehead. "Why didn't you bring him to a hospital?"

"Too far away. And anyway, how much better off would he be there?"

She said nothing. The hospitals in the Horizon were always busy, even more so during winter, and supplies were low. Just as many people died with hospital treatment than without.

She gently stroked his hair. "Poor thing," she murmured softly, "Poor, poor thing."

"Yeah," he replied noncommittally. He glanced up. "So, um, are we going back to work, or –"

"Yeah." She reluctantly pulled herself away from the blonde. Typical. She was always a soft one, he thought to himself.

She turned to him and smiled. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah." He got up, grabbing his coat off the couch. "Let's go."

…~…

"Don't you have a car?" she asked him, as they walked past the place where he had found the man.

"I do," he replied.

"Why don't you use it?"

"It broke down six months ago."

"Huh," she mused. "Wouldn't think that would be a problem for a mechanic."

He gave her a sour look, but she just laughed. "I'm just kidding, Kurogane."

"Mmm."

"So, do you think you're close to figuring out the problem?"

"It's not a matter of figuring out the problem. I know what the problem is."

"And?"

"The transmission broke. Needs to be replaced. Trouble is, I haven't been able to find a new one."

"So you walk."

"You do, too," he pointed out.

"I know. There's nothing wrong with it. I was just wondering why, that's all."

"Why do you walk?"

"I don't know how to drive."

He glanced at her. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Don't have anyone to teach me. My father died in one of the early attacks, and my mother..."

"Yeah," he said quickly.

She glanced at him, then finished. "I can't afford driving lessons, either."

They walked in silence for a while. "I… could teach you. If you like," Kurogane finally said.

She smiled at him. "That's nice of you. But I really don't mind walking. And I couldn't afford a car anyway."

Her smile turned sad all of a sudden. "It's funny. Well, no, not really funny, but…" she trailed off.

"What?"

She hesitated. "I've never experienced this, of course, but I've read… in books…that before Ravinia came around, sixteenth birthdays were a big affair. There'd be lots of cake, and a big party… and you'd get your driver's license." She looked wistful. "I remember my sixteenth birthday. My mother had one of her bad spells, and I had to take the day off to take care of her. I remember praying, Please, God, all I want for my birthday is for my mother to be okay."

"I'm not complaining. Parties and driving are usually the last things on my mind anyway. But sometimes I try to imagine what my life would be like if Ravinia had never existed… and I can't. It's just so surreal." She paused, thinking. "Let's see. We'd live in a nicer house, I'm sure. I'd have gone to high school, and I'd have lots of friends, and I'd know how to drive. My father would be alive, and my mother would have better treatment, and Syaoran –" She closed her eyes suddenly.

There was a long silence. "I'm sorry," he replied lamely.

"Don't be. It's just a silly fantasy, anyway." They had reached the door of the shop. She opened it. "Let's get to work."

...~...

Author's Note:

I do not own the concept of Ravinia or the Horizon Compounds, or Alexander Naymeer and his speech. I do not own Halla or the dados or the Bronx Massacre. They belong to DJ MacHale and 'Pendragon'. I do not own Kurogane or Fai or Sakura, because they are fictional and, in any case, I'm poor and wouldn't be able to feed them. I do not own Yankee Stadium. I do not own the UN. I do not own a car.

Fai will wake up in the next chapter, I promise.

SOMEONE PLEASE REVIEW


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